Dispassion
by thunderings
Summary: Your lover is an actress. Did you really think she’d stay? -Stayne/Alice-


**Title: **Dispassion**  
Pairing: **Stayne/Alice**  
Warning(s): **Mild sensuality**  
Summary: **Your lover is an actress. Did you really think she'd stay? -Stayne/Alice-**  
A/N: **I don't even know what this is. Started writing this really late at night, and it basically wrote itself.

* * *

"_But your majesty, think of this: under the reign of your sister everyone was subject to quick, harsh judgments. I-I merely think that Ilosovic Stayne was merely Iracebeth's puppet. I implore you to pardon him."_

So this is her normal size.

_Huh. _

Stayne doesn't know how to react to this; when she was tall there was something alluring about her – almost like a forbidden fruit, and yet in her regular size, he's surprised to feel that he _still _wants to ravish her, because the innocence and purity she exudes is intoxicating.

It isn't until Iracebeth is dragged off by soldiers that Stayne comprehends what Alice has just said.

"_Pardon him."_

This wasn't expected.

-

He corners her up against the wall (_this is becoming cliché) _and asks her why an angel like her would save a devil like him. She only smiles and glides away, with words that that render him speechless.

"_We both know what it's like to be controlled by others." _

-

She tries to pretend that she doesn't notice how the new queen has taken a liking to the recently appointed court hatter.

Alice is good at pretending.

-

"They seem close."

Stayne makes small talk with Alice sometimes. Usually it's very awkward, with non-committal one liners exchanged with eyes cast down on the ground.

"Yes…they do."

They stand on a balcony looking down at Mirana and Tarrant walking through the gardens. Smiling, laughing, talking -everything the two watching them cannot and _will not_ do.

"And what do you think of it? _Jealous_?"

"I am dispassionate towards the whole thing." She chooses to ignore the latter comment.

Stayne rolls his eye (_and was that a small chuckle she heard?) _and turns to enter the palace.

"You're a horrible liar, Um."

She'd slap him if she could.

-

Alice avoids Stayne after this exchange.

_This drives him mad. _

Madder than the hatter that talks to himself and drinks exactly sixty-two cups of tea a day and comes up with answerless riddles; madder than Iracebeth and her paranoia towards her sister; and even madder than Mirana who just manages to keep her madness well hidden.

Her ignoring him drives him over the edge and how she _knows _it does.

He must possess her _now._

-

Glancing at one another over raised wine glasses, following each other in the halls, forced smiles when they notice the opposite person talking to someone else. These are the games they play and _oh _they play them well. Stayne plays the game ruthlessly: eliminating competition with one piercing look. Alice plays the game like a lady: coquettish smiles that drive him insane.

This is not a game of love. It is a sport to see which one of them falls first.

-

It is Alice that eventually loses the game.

Women can never win against men with long dark hair and smoldering eyes.

It is their one weakness.

-

He pretends that she'll actually enjoy this.

"Tarrant!" She abruptly screams or moans. (_Probably both) _

Stayne suddenly jerks away from her, and after a few speechless moments, lies on his side as if to fall asleep. Alice does the same thing, but not before leaning towards him.

"You broke the only rule of the game: don't fall in love with me."

-

He wakes up to find that she's gone, leaving only an empty vial of Jabberwocky blood on her pillow. Stayne merely sighs and rolls over hoping for at least another hour of sleep.

He tries to ignore the mysterious hole in his chest that suddenly begins to throb.__

(Your lover is an actress. Did you really think she'd stay?)

-

There are parties and soirées every night in London and for a nineteen year old young woman with no potential marriage prospects, Alice finds herself forced to attend each one. Scores of men fight to dance with her; they are all of the same stock: tall (_not as tall as she'd like), _blue eyed, and with hair so gold it could very well rival the sun. (_How she longs to see at least one tall man with long dark hair) _

Pleasantries are exchanged, an awkward silence ensues, and her partner grapples with what to say next. (_Stayne however, always had something to say) _They'll dance for a song or two, and somehow Alexander or Lewis or whatever Alice's partner's name is that night will make an excuse to get away. (_She was never boring with him)_

-

The heart dies a slow death. Shedding each hope like leaves, until one day there are none. No hopes. Nothing remains. Slowly the heart becomes as skeletal as a bare tree; as lonely as a graveyard.

(_His life is a perfect graveyard of buried hopes, and she is just another tombstone) _

-

"I must say, something must be in the water here in London. All of the women here could compete with a giraffe and win. I guess what I'm trying to say is….I like you Alice," begins one of Alice's many suitors one night, "I like your smallness."

She slaps him and swiftly walks away.

-

Alice used to dream of pleasant things, (_of shoes and ships and ceiling wax, of cabbages and kings) _but now her slumber is plagued with one single image: _him. _She imagines his pale face perfectly, down to each and every last scar. (_That all probably have a deliciously gruesome story attached to them that she'd very much like to hear) _Sometimes Alice even envisions running her fingers through his raven hued hair, (_she would be the one to detangle it) _and more than once awakens to find herself running her fingers through something quite soft.

It is only Dinah.

How disappointing.

-

Some days she thinks about returning to Underland. There are even days she gets as far as the rabbit hole, but always turns back. How would Alice honestly return? What would she say to-_him?_

(_"After being gone for half a year now, I have come upon the realization that I have a certain fondness for you that I cannot describe. You are made up of everything I stand against. You are evil, twisted, and are a betrayer – but yet I cannot stop what I'm feeling –even though I wish I could.") _

Alice doesn't notice until it is too late that the ground underneath has given out, sending her once more spiraling downward.

She's rather face the Jabberwocky again then go through what she is about to.

-

Even though his back is turned, he knows it's her as soon as she steps into the room. Her scent compromised of freshly picked lilacs and vanilla enters his nostrils –almost if to torment him. The clock on the mantle ticks away the minutes, while they both grapple inside with what to say.

"I-I have come back," Alice stutters lamely, "I left because I was afraid, and I have come back because I am afraid of losing something that I lo-"

Stayne crushes his lips against hers, silencing her awkwardly put together speech.

"Don't say you love me –that was the only other rule in this game," he murmurs against her neck.

_(Some things are best left unsaid)_


End file.
